


you call her wanda?

by castielanderson



Category: New Avengers (Comics), Scarlet Witch (Comic), Young Avengers
Genre: Canon Suicide, Depression, Gen, M/M, Mental Illness, Mother-Son Relationship, Self-Harm, Suicidal Ideation, billy is awkward, tommy and wanda are super tight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:12:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7819222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielanderson/pseuds/castielanderson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into the development of Billy and Wanda's relationship, starting post Children's Crusade through the present comics.  Inspired by Billy calling her "Mom" in New Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you call her wanda?

**Author's Note:**

> for the sake of this fic, please ignore Wanda's session with her therapist in Scarlet Witch cool thanks

It’s not like they’ve had ample time for bonding.  After rescuing Wanda, she’d been consumed by paying penance, him by depression.  It wasn’t until Teddy broke into his barrier of gloom that he’d started feeling a little better.  He threw that grey sweatshirt away and went on a shopping spree per Teddy’s suggestion.  This is when Teddy somehow convinced Billy to pierce at least one ear.  He wasn’t going to get crazy about it like Teddy, but eventually the single hoop did grow on him.  

 

Once Billy started getting out of bed again, Tommy returned to the Kaplan’s house to visit and Wanda invited them over for tea every other week.  It was awkward at first.  They had no idea how to talk to each other.  Tommy and Billy, previously connected through an effortless twin bond, had been broken apart by Billy’s depression.  Tommy didn’t know how to communicate with him anymore, and Billy hated how fragile he felt around Tommy.  

 

Wanda just had no clue how to talk to them in general.  She was clearly very worried about the pair of them.  Rebecca had been talking to her behind Billy’s back about his depression, and Tommy’s anxiety was off the wall.  Obviously her mothering instinct was there, because she talked to them just like Rebecca would, checking in on them and making sure their tea wasn’t too hot and that they were getting enough to eat, but those things were easy.  How do you approach your sons about rearing mental illness when you’ve just been reunited after seventeen years?

 

Nothing too particularly progressive happened in those few months, after which Billy unleashed an adult-sensitive parasite that made Wanda a brainless minion of Mother at the same time Tommy was kidnapped by an interdimensional ghost of Eli’s alter ego.  You could say things were pretty fucked up for awhile.

 

Shortly thereafter, Billy and Teddy were recruited by Roberto da Costa, leaving not only Wanda behind, but Rebecca as well, gone for weeks at a time on missions.  Home started to feel like hell then, with Rebecca pushing Billy to not only see his therapist more regularly, but to take time off and figure out what he wanted to do with his life.  He’d barely squeezed through high school, and although he had finished with good grades, he was far too exhausted to start college.  He didn’t even want to think about it, but that’s all Rebecca wanted him to do.

 

So now here he is, in the midst of another Civil War, fighting on a team of other magic-users - a team that conveniently includes Wanda, and he can’t make sense of it, doesn’t know how it came to be, but it did.  He called Wanda “mom”, and he’s been ruminating over it for days.

It’s not that it felt weird - it just came out.  What’s confusing Billy is how natural it feels when he hasn’t yet had the bonding experience with Wanda he would have liked.  It’s not bad; it just doesn’t add up.

 

.

 

Billy has just gotten out of the shower, towel still hanging around his waist, when he steps into his room to find his twin brother lounging on his bed.  He pulls his towel up over the ‘V’ of his hips, spluttering, “Tommy! - What the hell are you doing here?”

 

Tommy doesn’t even bother looking at him.  “Wanda invited us over for tea.  I was supposed to tell you last week but I forgot.”

 

BIlly sighs.  “Good thing I got ready before five today.”

 

Tommy pointedly ignores that.  Things have been weird between them.  It’s been just under two months since Tommy moved out.  He told Billy’s parents that it was because he felt he had overstayed their hospitality, but Billy knows the truth.  It was because Billy’s robot-like existence (he refuses to call it depression) and the tension that came with it made him restless.  As Billy found himself slowly becoming human again, the resentment started coming out.

 

Billy didn’t like the subtle overprotective nature of Tommy’s visits, and Tommy didn’t like Billy’s disregard for the way his behavior affected everyone else.  Billy started blaming Tommy for abandoning him, and Tommy started blaming Billy for his increasing struggle with his own anxiety.  Their latest argument landed Billy his first appointment with a therapist and honestly he’s still pretty pissed about it.

 

Billy stares at Tommy pointedly for a moment, willing him to leave with his eyes, but it doesn’t work.  Instead, he grabs the first clean outfit he can find and returns to the bathroom.  His jeans are new, and tight, and it feels kind of strange, but the part of him that lets reality through knows it’s a big deal that he’s putting care into his appearance again.  He looks at himself in the mirror, brushing his bangs out of his eyes.  He gives an awkward smile to the mirror and feels satisfied.

 

They take Tommy’s car.  Teddy is a biker, and Billy will bike places to please him, but honestly he’s a subway kind of traveller.   Tommy’s car is loud and junky.  The bumper is rusty and it’s a putrid green color, but Billy would expect nothing else.  At least Tommy has a car.  At least he has an apartment, and he can hold a job, and provide for himself.  Billy’s in summer school, retaking all the classes he failed spring semester when he forgot how to be a human being.  He can’t even think about getting a job.

 

Wanda lives twenty blocks out, in a fairly nice apartment with a small terrace that she keeps covered in herbs and spices.  Billy’s started to wonder how seriously she takes her codename.  Every time he visits her he finds something new that puts definition to her brand of witchcraft.  Honestly she probably knows more about Wicca than him.

 

Today she’s burning incense that smells like lavender and something smoky.  A bright red tea kettle hisses on the stove and she walks around in a floral silk robe.  She smiles brightly when they walk in - which is still weird to Billy.  Tommy visits a lot, Billy knows this, but he can’t imagine visiting enough to walk in her door unannounced. 

 

“Hi boys,” she calls across the room. 

 

“Hey, Wanda,” Tommy replies, kicking off his shoes.

 

Billy mumbles, “Hi,” and does the same.

 

“You can take a seat on the sofa,” Wanda tells them.  “I’ll bring the tea out there.” 

 

Tommy grabs a book off the coffee table and reads it aloud (“A History of Human Skulls”) before throwing himself back against the pillows and kicking his feet up.

 

“Thomas, I sincerely hope your socks are clean,” Wanda says without even looking at him.

 

Billy stays sitting forward, stiff as a board with his hands on his knees.  He doesn’t relax until Wanda hands him a mug, the warmth filling him with a sense of comfort.  He takes a sip, notes the heavy chai taste, and exhales.

 

“So,” Wanda starts, taking a sit in the armchair adjacent to them, “What have you two been up to this week?”

 

“Plugging in my forty hours,” Tommy huffs, stirring around his tea leaves.  “You’d think with this metabolism I could do all of them straight, but nope.  I got up to twenty-nine and passed out at my desk.”

 

Wanda laughs.  “I’ve told you not to mess with that.”

 

“At least I didn’t drink eleven cups of coffee this time.  I only had three.”

 

“Thomas, you’re going to develop a heart condition before you’re thirty.  You are so like your uncle.”

 

Tommy goes into further detail about his work stunt, and Billy only half-listens.  He doesn’t know what to contribute to this conversation considering he doesn’t do much of anything except sleep and work slowly on all the school work he has to catch up on.  He’s concentrating so hard on coming up with an acceptable answer that he doesn’t notice when Wanda turns to him.

 

“William?  Billy?”

 

“Oh,” he starts.  “I uh - I started work on an essay.”

 

“For what class?”

 

“Environmental science,” he grimaces.  

 

“Starting’s the hardest part,” Wanda offers.  Billy just nods.

 

It continues like this.  Tommy dominating the conversation and Billy chiming in only when Wanda asks him a direct question.  Otherwise he sips his tea and thanks his lucky stars that they still haven’t reached the subject of his mental health, or lack thereof.

 

.

 

Therapy is weird.

 

Billy can talk Teddy’s ear off.  He can complain about this or that and not take a breath, but therapy is fucking weird.  He refused to go see someone from his mother’s office; despite patient confidentiality laws, he would always have the sneaking suspicion that things would “slip out” between coworkers.

 

So he went to a different place.  It’s small, jam-packed into a building with tons of other businesses, and his therapist is a sweet, charming woman maybe ten years older than his mom.  She’s almost too sweet.  He feels weird just bitching at her, and talking about his feelings is a definite no-no - even though that’s exactly what he’s supposed to be doing.

 

The first session is probably the most awkward hour of Billy’s life.  They had him fill out an extremely-detailed list of symptoms and events that have recently taken place in his life.  He got halfway through before he realized that keeping his secret identity was a waste of time.  He’s in the process of being put on the register and leaving that part of his life out would cause him more stress than actually talking about it; so the first half of this lengthy pamphlet is a scribbled mess.

 

“So,” she starts.  “You’ve been dealing with the deaths of three of your friends?”

 

Yes.  Kind of.  Nate isn’t really a friend, not in retrospect.  And Jonas was always complicated, being the reincarnation of his father.  And it’s not just their deaths; it’s that they’re  _ his fault _ , but he doesn’t say any of that.  Instead he says, “Yeah.”

 

“That’s pretty traumatic, Billy.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“On this sheet, you say you were a ‘robot’ for months?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Can you explain further what you mean?”

 

“Um - I don’t know.”

 

“Go on.  Try.”

 

“I don’t know.  I just - didn’t do anything.  Just - looked out the window most of the time.  Didn’t talk.  Yeah.” 

 

“Hmmm.”

 

That’s how the entire hour goes.  All this therapist does is repeat everything he said on his sheet and ask him to clarify - which in his personal opinion, is pretty fucking stupid since he thinks most things are self-explanatory.  His friends died.  The Avengers wanted to lock him up, wanted to lock his mother up after he finally found her.  He stopped being a superhero because he felt so guilty and out of control.  He felt like shit.  He  _ still  _ feels like shit.  Now the question is - how does he stop feeling like shit?  If his therapist doesn’t even understand why he feels like shit, then - what the hell are they supposed to do?

 

He leaves therapy exhausted and vows to never go back, but of course, Rebecca convinces him to return.  The next session doesn’t go any better, but the third session finally kickstarts  _ something _ .

 

They’re halfway through, talking about the moment he realized his friends were fucking dead when she says, “You feel guilty?” like it’s the most absurd thing in the world.

 

“Of course I fucking feel guilty,” Billy snaps, fed up with all of this bullshit.  “I dragged everyone into that mess.  I was the one whose powers fucked up, who got the attention of the Avengers, who brought my criminal mother back to New York and started a goddamn war.  I know the Avengers were wrong and I was right, but fuck - my fucking friends  _ died _ because of it.  They died because of me.”

 

His therapist is quiet for a very long time before she says, “It’s not your fault.”

 

Billy immediately rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.  This isn’t going to work.  Therapy is not going to work if his therapist doesn’t even listen to him.  He’s not here to argue.  He’s here to learn how to stop feeling like absolute garbage, and he would think that starts with him admitting why he feels that way, and here his therapist is telling him he’s wrong.  

 

“Billy,” she continues.  “Billy, I know what you’re thinking.  I know that you feel responsible, and that’s all fine and good, but what happened was not your responsibility.”

 

Billy just closes his eyes.

 

The session ends with a prescription for Prozac, and Billy vaporizes it in his fist the moment he passes through her door.  He’s not fucking depressed.  He doesn’t need medication.  He needs to  _ stop feeling guilty _ .

 

He’s absolutely fuming, so caught up in the anger that’s turning his vision blue around the edges that he doesn’t see someone walking into the office.  He barrels right into them with a grunt.

 

“Shit,” he hisses.  “Oh, god - I’m so sorry - I didn’t - “

 

“Billy?”   
  


He looks up and is greeted with his own eyes - the eyes he somehow reincarnation-inherited from his mother.  

 

“Wanda?”

 

She squints as she looks at him, eyebrows pulled together in concern.  “Are you alright?  You seem . . . worked up.”

 

He rubs a hand against the back of his neck.  “I just - I just um - had a session with my therapist.  We don’t - we don’t really get along.”

 

Wanda nods. “That can happen.  Not every therapist connects with every patient.  I tried seven different therapists before I settled.”   
  


The thought of going through seven different shitty therapists makes Billy’s brain short-circuit.  He is, decidedly, never coming back, and he means it this time.

 

Self-conscious, Billy turns the conversation away from him.  “I - uh - I didn’t know you were in therapy,” Billy mutters without looking her.  “Particularly  _ here _ .”

 

Wanda nods.  “Well, after I came back to New York, I made it a priority to start taking better care of myself.  I talked to a few different friends - Jess, Carol, Steve - they helped me decide that therapy was a good move.  I’m now considering other options as well - I already do a lot of meditation.  Maybe medication somewhere in the future.”  

 

She is entirely calm as she says all of this - cheerful, even.  Billy doesn’t understand.  He just destroyed a prescription for anti-depressants.  He hates treatment.   _ Hates it _ .  Maybe he isn’t related to Wanda after all.

 

“Are you going to be okay, Billy?” Wanda asks, reaching out and laying a hand on his cheek.

 

He doesn’t flinch.  “Yeah,” he lies.  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.  I’ll, uh, see you around.”  He makes a beeline for the door, fully aware that Wanda watches him as he goes.

 

.

 

Billy doesn’t get to sleep much.  Noh’s ship isn’t the most comfortable of places, and honestly, he can’t get his brain to shut up most nights.  He’s being eaten alive by guilt, something he never managed to master in therapy, given that his third appointment was the last before he and his friends were forced to uproot themselves.

 

Sometimes it feels like they’ve been on the run for years.  Billy doesn’t even know what they’re looking for anymore.  He practices magic with Loki and constantly worries about his brother while David promises he’s working on leads, but they never seem to make progress.  All they do is jump from dimension to dimension and outrun various dangers.

 

The past few days have been slow, and Billy has jumped on the chance to catch up on sleep.  He convinced Loki to cast a relaxation spell on him to ease his anxiety, and now he’s snoozing blissfully.  Right in the middle of an adult-rated dream that involves Teddy and zero-gravity, the sound of his phone ringing jolts him awake.  How the hell is he even getting reception in Wherever-The-Fuck-They-Are, Universe?

 

“Hello,” he grumbles into the speaker.

 

“William?” comes a soft voice.  

 

Anger soothed and suddenly awake, Billy asks, “Wanda?”  He rubs at his eyes and pushes himself onto his elbow.

 

“Hi,” Wanda says.  “I’ve been picking up pieces of our last encounter.”

 

Billy winces.  “You mean with my parents?”

 

“They don’t seem to remember,” Wanda replies as affirmation.  “But I have my ways.”  She sighs heavily.  “I just wanted to check up on you.”

 

Billy starts.  He opens his mouth, but is entirely unsure what to say.  He still isn’t used to the way Wanda mothers him.  “I tried to explain to my parents,” he offers.  “Obviously, they don’t remember anything that’s happened, and - “  He falters.  “I’m okay, Wanda.”

 

An extended silence follows.  

 

“Billy, I have something to confess,” Wanda all but whispers.  “The origin was accidental, but I haven’t abolished it yet - I - a telepathic connection seems to have formed between us.  I don’t know if you can feel it, but it seems to be rooted in our shared powers.  I - I’ve been checking in on you using it, and I’ve felt a significant amount of distress lately.  The other night I woke up with one of the worst migraines I’d ever experienced.”

 

Billy’s mouth goes dry, and his stomach starts to turn with the feeling of a phantom barrel snuggled underneath his chin.  He closes his eyes, sees the flash of the laser, feels Loki’s hand on his wrist.

 

“I’m - “ Billy begins, but he has nothing to say.  “Wanda, I - I’m only as stressed as you can imagine.  It’s - it’s difficult being away and it’s terrifying not to know how or when things will be resolved, but - but I’m  _ fine _ .”

 

Wanda hums low.  “I’m not Rebecca,” she says after a moment.  “I know that, but I still think of myself as your mother, William.  I want you to trust me.  I want you to be able to  _ talk _ to me.”

 

Billy swallows hard.  “I know, Wanda.  I appreciate that, but I - I don’t really have anything to talk about.  We both know you can’t help me with this problem, and I - I wouldn’t ask you to, because I don’t want to put you in danger.”

 

Wanda scoffs.  “You’re just as stubborn as I am,” she mutters, and then adds, “My job is to protect you from danger, William.  No matter what.”

 

“I’m not - I can take care of myself,” Billy argues.

 

The silence that follows reflects what they both know - that was a bold-faced lie.

 

After another heavy sigh, Wanda says, “I’m not going to push you, but I do want you to know that I am here.  I don’t care how you came to be my William, but you are, and I have always loved you.”

 

Billy swallows again, harder, against the lump in his throat.  “Thank - thank you, Wanda.”

 

“I’m going to keep checking in,” she says pointedly, and she sounds so much like an echo of Rebecca that Billy almost laughs.

 

“I’ll keep you updated,” Billy promises.

 

He doesn’t.

 

.

 

Since his powers first showed during childhood, Billy has never really received formal instruction.  For some reason, some very desperate and probably foolhardy reason, he thought learning from Loki would be a good experience.  It’s not like Billy doesn’t have dreams about becoming Sorcerer Supreme - he definitely does.  Loki would be an opportunity for him to learn about other forms of magic.  Unfortunately, Billy doesn’t even know the depths of his own form of magic, and lessons are absolutely miserable.

 

He’s exhausted.  He’s exhausted and he can’t sleep and he’s so frustrated with life that he’s started taking it out on himself.  Specifically, the inside of his arm.  He tries hard not to dwell on this unhealthy development, convincing himself he can stay in control, that he’ll stop, that his life will get easier and the scars will go away.

 

It’s when his arm become more scars than unblemished skin that he decides to call Wanda.

 

He picks his phone up off his bed, startled when his sleeve rides up, showing the most recent damage.  He quickly shoves it down and dials Wanda’s number with shaky fingers.  He still isn’t sure how the hell he gets service out here, but damn is he glad.

 

For some reason he’s surprised when Wanda picks up; he still isn’t used to any of this - calling her for support, letting himself be vulnerable, treating her the way he would treat Rebecca.  It’s all very confusing and strange.

 

“William?” she asks.  He cringes; he isn’t used to that either.

 

“H - Hi - Wanda,” he starts.  He clears his throat.  “Um, I just - I need some advice.  I don’t really know if you can help, but it’s about magic, and I don’t really have anyone else to go to for that kind of thing, so I just - “

 

“Billy,” she cuts in, and he breathes a little easier at the familiarity of his preferred name.  “What’s the problem?” she continues.

 

Billy takes a moment to collect himself.  “I don’t know how much you know about my situation, if you know about who I’m with and - 

 

“I know you’re with Loki,” Wanda assures him.  “Or, some sort of incarnation of him.  I admit, I was worried at first.  I am  _ very  _ familiar with his magic and the poisonous undercurrents it possesses, but - I trust you.”

 

“It’s - he’s a kid,” Billy tries.  “He’s not the Loki we all know.  I don’t know how to explain it to you, but he’s different.”

 

Wanda just hums.

 

“Anyway,” Billy continues.  “He’s - he’s been teaching me.  He’s trying to unlock something in me, but I have no idea what it is.  I just - “ he huffs “ - he has me meditating and burning incense and ‘tapping into’ energy, but I don’t understand any of it.  I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing or looking for or learning.  I don’t - I feel like I’m just being toyed with, and knowing Loki  . . I don’t know.  Some things have been working.  I feel different things.  Different energies.  But I don’t know what any of it means.   I’m supposed to have this deep awakening - become something powerful enough to fight this Mother thing, but I’m so lost.  I’d - I’d ask for your help, but I know what she does to adults, and I wouldn’t want to risk anything - “

 

“Okay, okay - Billy,” Wanda shushes him.  “Slow down.  Take some deep breaths.”

 

He does as she says, feeling a little lightheaded.  

 

“First of all, you’re doing fine, Billy,” she says softly.  “You’re more powerful than you know, and with time you will come to explore and master everything that you can do.  Second, I know you’re worried about Loki’s intentions - that’s only natural - but I know a little bit about meditation and burning incense.“ Billy can hear the smile in her voice.  “Whatever Loki’s teaching you, whatever incarnation he is, he knows what he’s doing.  And so do you.  Are you isolating, Billy?”

 

He’s taken aback.  He wasn’t expecting that question and he splutters as he tries to answer.  “I - uh - I mean a little bit.”

 

“Billy.”

 

“A lot,” he admits.  “It’s easier to do what Loki’s teaching me if I do it alone.”

 

“You can practice magic alone,” Wanda says, “but you don’t have to  _ be _ alone.  Talk to Teddy, talk to Kate - keep yourself in reality.  And not whatever reality you’re making up for yourself with magic or in your head.  Use them to stay grounded.  It will make things easier.”

 

Billy nods to himself, noticing the way his breath has become more even.  “I don’t know if I’m ready, Wanda.  I’ve never - everything I’ve done with my powers has been by myself.  I don’t know how to wrap my head around magic as something tangible.”

 

“You can start by not panicking,” Wanda offers.

 

Billy smiles.

 

“Trust me, Billy.  Magic isn’t your enemy.  It’s in you.  No matter how you use it, or learn it, it’s a part of you.  You’re going to be okay.”

 

Billy sighs heavily, his eyelids fluttering shut.

 

“Thank you, Wanda.”

 

“It’s not a problem, Billy,” she insists.  “I really appreciate that you called me.  I’m always here for you.”

 

“I know,” Billy says.  It’s just so easy for him to forget.

 

.

 

Being kidnapped by an interdimensional parasite can really change things.  Of course, Tommy doesn’t remember anything that happened while he was kidnapped, but Billy and Wanda are both extra concerned, if not a little smothering.  

 

Billy knows he and Tommy weren’t on great terms before all of this conspired, and he knows why, but almost losing his brother quickly erases any anger he’s been harboring.  He apologizes over and over for the way he treated Tommy after he “woke up,” so to speak.  Tommy apologizes too, guilty for the support he never gave his brother during the darkest moments of his depression.  They hug it out and get drunk together and maybe share a heart-to-heart.

 

“I know I wasn’t fun to deal with,” Billy says through a belch, cracking opening another bottle of hard cider.  “I look back and can’t believe how deep I was inside my own head.  I just - I didn’t think about how any of you were doing.”

 

Tommy sighs heavily after he takes another swig.  “Billy, it wasn’t - it wasn’t about you being self-obsessed or whatever.  I didn’t - I didn’t care that you weren’t trying to pry my feelings out of me like everyone else.  In fact, I appreciated that.  I just - “  He makes a face and rubs harshly at his mouth.

 

“What?” Billy prods.

 

“Billy, I was fucking terrified,” he says quietly.

 

Billy just blinks.  “Terrified of what?”

 

“Don’t act stupid,” Tommy says with a glare.  “I spent those few, agonizing months just waiting for you to off yourself.  I moved out because I didn’t want to be there when it happened.  I couldn’t - I couldn’t have handled that.”

 

Billy is silent for a long time, staring down the rim of his bottle.  A fresh wave of guilt comes smashing over him, his mind ruminating on the cold metal of Noh’s gun, the burning heat of the laser that zipped past his ear instead of blasting through his brain.

 

“I - I wasn’t,” is all he gets out before his throat becomes too tight to speak.

 

“I didn’t know for sure,” Tommy says.  “You were never  _ there _ .  You wouldn’t even fucking talk to me.  All I did was sit and worry, and worry, and worry.”

 

“Tommy,” Billy whispers.

 

“Wanda made me see a psychiatrist,” he confesses.  “Didn’t last long.  We talked stuff out, she diagnosed me with anxiety, I started smoking a lot of weed, and then I got kidnapped.”

 

Billy doesn’t know what to say so he just clears his throat.  Then, - “I’m seeing a psychiatrist.  Was.  Before you got kidnapped.”

 

“Good,” Tommy says pointedly, and that’s the end of that.

 

Billy thinks this reunion can’t get any more emotional, but then Wanda invites both of them over the next night for dinner, and Billy isn’t as careful as he could be, and long story short - he kind of accidentally shows off his scars when Wanda passes him the rice which earns him a very serious talking-to once Tommy passes out on the couch into a food coma.

 

“William, I’m going to be blunt,” she says before taking a deep breath.  “I can clearly see the self-harm scars and cuts on your arm and I am very concerned.”

 

Billy chokes on the champagne he’d been slowly sipping.  After setting his glass on the coffee, table, he pulls down his sweatshirt sleeves well over his hands.  A blush is steadily creeping up his neck, but he ignores it.

 

“Wanda, I don’t - you shouldn’t - it’s under control,” he finally chokes out.  His eyes widen involuntarily as he stares at the floor and he feels a scream bubbling in this throat.  He’s full of delicious food and just a little bit tipsy and is so not prepared to defend the state of his mental health.

 

Wanda sighs, and for a moment, looks like she’s going to cry.  She lays a delicate hand on Billy’s knee and closes her eyes as she begins to speak again.

 

“None of us quite know how you and your brother came to be.  You were born to different families, and yet all of us share the same DNA.  Your brother inherited Pietro’s powers, and you inherited mine.  And William, I don’t think it’s the only thing you’ve inherited from me.  And I’m not talking about the hair and the eyes, either.  Unfortunately, I believe we share a mental illness too.”

 

Billy starts squirming before she even finishes the last sentence, attempting to scoot away from her touch.  He’s not doing this.  He’s not having this conversation, not here, not with Wanda, not when he’s supposed to be having a happy evening.

 

“Wanda,” he starts, potentially a little too harsh.  “Look, I appreciate that you’re concerned, but - I’m not - I’m  _ fine _ .”

 

“Billy,” she says gently, but with a certain force.

 

“Wanda, I’m serious,” he continues.  “I’m not sick.  I’m not crazy.  I’m - having trouble adjusting at the most, and I know it’s difficult to believe when I’m - I’m hurting myself, but it’s true.  I’m fine, and I can take care of myself.”

 

Before Wanda can even hope to answer, he pushes himself off the couch and grabs his jacket from the back of the armchair.  Without looking at her, Billy says, “Thanks for the, um - dinner, Wanda.  And tell Tommy I said thanks for the champagne when he wakes up.  I have to be up early.  I’ll see you soon.”

 

“William,” Wanda calls after him, but he’s already swinging the door shut behind him.

 

.

 

Teddy’s long asleep, has been for at least a couple hours, but Billy’s wide awake.  About a week ago Roberto Da Costa approached him and Teddy, shoving files in their faces about the newest incarnation of the New Avengers.  Songbird, Squirrel Girl, White Tiger, and Power Man.  Potential additions: Wiccan and Hulkling.  It’s a good opportunity, Billy knows this - but he’s nervous.  The Young Avengers disbanding once more was a blessing in disguise.  

 

He knows Teddy will never stop wanting to fight, but Billy’s mental health is seriously deteriorating, and no matter how much he tries to deny it, it’s pretty hard to ignore.  He’s barely catching up on the school they missed while fighting Mother, which he was still behind in from dropping off the face of the Earth and into his head after Cassie and Jonas died.  He should have graduated months ago, but now he’s barely scraping by.

 

On top of that, his mom is on his case again about going back to therapy.  Months away from home, the development of self-harm, and two suicide attempts have not done him any wonders.  He knows he should see a therapist, should probably stop being in denial, should probably get on meds, but all of that takes admitting that he’s fucked up, and that’s not something he wants to do.  So while he’s struggling through school, he’s also struggling to prove to Rebecca and his dad and Teddy and his little brothers and Kate that he’s  _ fine _ .

 

Billy sighs heavily and grabs his phone off the nightstand.  Maybe browsing Yamblr will take his mind off things.  He swipes his phone open and is promptly greeted by his list of recent messages.  Shit.  Wanda sent him a text that morning asking for his schedule.  He totally forget to text her back.  He starts typing out an answer before the idea dawns on him.  A glance upward tells him it’s three in the morning, but hell, it’s worth a shot.  Billy clicks “Details” next to her name and chooses the calling option.

 

Low and behold, Wanda answers after the first ring.

 

“Were you really up at this hour or did I wake you?” Billy asks.

 

“I’m up,” Wanda sighs.  “Couldn’t sleep.  I’ve been trying to meditate but even that isn’t working.”

 

“Nightmares?” Billy asks knowingly.

 

“Yes,” Wanda admits.  “I’m going to have to take to my therapist about switching meds.”  

 

“Oh,” Billy says despite himself.  “I didn’t know you were on . . . meds.”

 

And then she comes at him.  “Speaking of which - “

 

“Nope,” Billy says without hesitance.  “Not what I called to talk about.”

 

“Oh, you actually called to talk about something?” Wanda asks.  “I thought you were just bored.”

 

Billy catches himself smiling.  He likes sleepless Wanda.  She’s sassy.

 

“Yeah.  I got a job offer.”

 

“Mmm?  Where?” Wanda asks.  “How much does it pay?”

 

“Not that kind of job,” Billy clarifies.  “Actually, Teddy and I got the same offer.”

 

“Oh,” Wanda says, a curious tone.  “With who?  What company?”

 

“AIM.  Roberto Da Costa.  Songbird is in charge of the team, but he’s the boss.”

 

Wanda hums.  “I can’t say I know much about this project.  What is it?”

 

“New Avengers,” Billy says.  “But like - New New New New New Avengers, Twentieth Reincarnation.  I don’t know what to do, Wanda.  I’ve never been a part of a regulated team, much less fought with people I don’t know on a personal level.  I know I’ll be with Teddy, but - I feel weird.  I’m gonna miss Kate and Tommy and David and Noh, and fuck, even Loki.  I know Kate’s with Clint again, but it’s  _ Clint _ .”

 

“Billy?” Wanda asks, and it’s in  _ that  _ tone - the one that sounds just like Rebecca.  Do all mothers have that same kind of all-knowing tone?  Is that just inherent?  “Do you want to be active?”

 

Billy falters.  “I mean - it’s - it’s nice.”

 

“How’s your trauma?”

 

“Manageable.”

 

“Are you going to go back to therapy?”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“William.”

 

“... Eventually, yes.”

 

“How’s school?”

 

“I mean - fine.  I’m taking online credits that will transfer back to my high school.  It’s not terrible.”

 

“Then, what’s holding you back, Billy?”

 

He runs his fingers across his forehead, stopping to press against his temple.  This is weird.  This is still weird.  It’s three in the morning and he’s talking to his reincarnation-mother, which he is still very confused about, and he’s way too vulnerable for comfort.  He realizes the familiarity of the conversation they just shared and isn’t sure whether that comforts or terrifies him.  Either way, it shoots his walls down for a second.

 

“I’m scared,” he admits.

 

“Of what?” Wanda presses.

 

“I don’t know of - of things becoming bad again.  Of being on a team getting in the way.  I do wanna join, I really do, I just - I don’t want to get bad again.”  He swallows hard, just noticing the lump that lodged itself in his throat.  Shit - he’s blabbering.  He’s too sleep-deprived for this.

 

“Billy,” Wanda starts, voice soft.  “You know the warning signs, don’t you?  You know when you’re going to be in trouble.”  

 

She gives him a second to say something but he doesn’t.

 

“That’s when you talk, Billy. Talk to Teddy, talk to Rebecca, talk to me, talk to a therapist.”

 

_ Not a therapist _ , Billy thinks, but doesn’t say it.

 

“You don’t have to suffer in silence.”

 

Billy takes a moment, lets said silence drown him just a little.  Then he smiles, makes sure Wanda can hear it in his voice.  “Thanks, Wanda.  I’ll call Da Costa in the morning.”

 

He can hear it when she smiles back.  “Good idea.”

 

.

 

A hand pushes itself into Billy’s view, setting a bowl of soup on his nightstand.

 

“You need to eat, Billy,” comes Teddy’s voice, but Billy ignores him.

 

Somewhere inside, Billy understands.  He knows he’s having a breakdown.  He knows that logically, he shouldn’t be staying in bed all day, for now three days straight.  He knows he should get up, shower, eat, take a walk, get some fresh air - something, but he can’t.  And he knows this is bad.  He hasn’t had a breakdown like this since - well, since Cassie and Jonas died.  Still, he doesn’t do anything about it.  He doesn’t necessarily want to.

 

With a small sigh, Teddy settles into bed next to him.  He curls himself around Billy’s body, spooning him, and nestles his chin into the crook of Billy’s neck.

 

“You know you can talk to me, right, Billy?” 

 

Billy nods.

 

“I love you, B.”

 

“I love you, too,” Billy mumbles.

 

There’s a knock on the door, and Teddy slides out of bed.  He opens it, and Billy expects his mother, maybe his father.  Instead, Tommy is standing there, hands in his pockets.

 

“Can we talk for a second?” he asks quietly.  

 

Teddy excuses himself and shuts the door behind him.  The must not move, must stay right there in the hallway, because Billy can hear every word they exchange.

 

“How is he?” Tommy asks.

 

“Bad,” Teddy replies, pretty fiercely.  “Really bad, Tommy.”

 

“Man, what’s been going on?”

 

“Besides him being possessed by a soul-eating demon?”

 

“Didn’t you guys go through debriefing and shit?  You guys work for SHIELD, right?”

 

“I mean, technically.  We thought it was AIM - it’s complicated.  And yeah, we did,” Teddy insists.  “He was fine.  In fact - he was happy, prideful.  He was off the wall excited about defeating Moridun.  I don’t know what happened.”

 

Somebody sighs heavily.

 

“Think he’d talk to me?” Tommy asks.

 

“I don’t know.  It’s worth a shot.”

 

The door cracks open and Billy braces himself.  He doesn’t like where this is headed.  The last breakdown he had destroyed their relationship.  There’s no way Billy can talk to Tommy now.  He doesn’t even know what he _ could _ say if he was willing.  He’s held everything in for far too long and it’s too complicated to dissect in a single conversation.

 

“Hey, Billy,” Tommy says lightly, hands still in his pockets.

 

“Hi,” Billy replies, short.

 

Tommy sits down at the food of the bed, stiff and unnatural.  “What’s going on, man?”

 

Billy just shrugs, earning a sigh from his brother.

 

“You’re worrying Teddy sick, you know.”

 

Billy doesn’t say anything.

 

“He’s terrified, Billy.  He sees more than you think.”

 

Billy feels a flush go down his body.  He glances down at the wrist nestled in front of him, stomach churning with guilt as he looks at his scars.

 

“I’m just - It’s just a couple days,” he says, a little defensive.  “It won’t be three months this time.  I just - I just need like a week, max.  I’ll be fine.”

 

“You know ‘fine’ is code for ‘something is actually really wrong and I just don’t want to admit it’, right?”

 

“Okay, well - then I’ll be okay.  And not fake-okay.  Real-okay.  I just need you guys to leave me alone.”

 

“Dude, I’m definitely not leaving you alone knowing you started cutting.”

 

Billy’s head whips up, and he looks at Tommy with something between ferocity, terror, and confusion.

 

“Wanda let it slip,” Tommy explains.

 

“Fuck,” Billy says harshly.  He throws his head back into the pillow, looking away from Tommy.  “I haven’t cut in two weeks.  And I’m not going to fucking kill myself if that’s what you’re worried about.  I’m past that. I just - I want to sleep for a week and get over this funk, alright?”

 

“Only if you promise to actually get over it.” Tommy says.

 

“I will.  If you and Teddy stop fussing.”

 

“We’re not fussing,” Tommy argues.  “Or, at least I’m not.  I just want to know what the fuck’s going on.”

 

“I’ll talk about it when I’m ready,” Billy says pointedly.

 

Tommy sighs.  “So that means never.”  He pushes himself off the bed and exits the room.  This time, Billy tries not to listen.  

 

After ten, maybe twenty minutes, both Teddy and Tommy return.  Teddy joins him in bed again, and Tommy crashes at his desk, staring at his phone.  Billy doesn’t ask what he’s doing, but is given a pretty obvious clue when he mutters, “Fucking zubat.”

 

Billy closes his eyes and tries to sleep, seeking a way out of the uncomfort that’s drowning him.  He finds that he has dozed off a bit when another knock at the door rouses him.  He’s still adjusting to consciousness when Wand walks into the room. Instantly, he’s awake.

 

He wants to argue, but he says nothing as Wanda asks Teddy and Tommy, “Can we get some privacy?  And I’ll know if you stand outside the door.  Go where you can’t hear us.”

 

The two of them walk out, Tommy almost dragging a worried Teddy.  Once the door closes, Wanda turns to him, arms cradled to her chest.

 

“What’s going on, William?”

 

He doesn’t answer right away, but takes a deep breath and hauls himself into a sitting position.  Wanda sinks into the end of the bed and faces him.

 

“Talk to me,” she urges.

 

Billy takes a long moment to gather his thoughts.  It’s hard.  His emotions are so high that he can barely even understand what they are.  It’s even harder to translate what he’s feeling into actual words.

 

“I was proud of myself at first,” he says, not entirely sure where to start.

 

“Proud of what?” Wanda asks.

 

“Expelling Moridun,” Billy says.  “His - his whole  _ thing  _ was filling me with ‘poisonous thoughts’ and I - well I’m already there, you know?  And I thought that was it.”

 

Wanda cocks her head, and Billy knows she doesn’t quite know where he’s going with this.  He doesn’t either.  He runs a shaky hand over his mouth, eyes fixated on his lap.

 

“I - I - it just - he couldn’t get to me because I - I’m already depressed.”  He chokes on the last word, swallows it.  It’s probably the first time he’s said that out loud.  “And - I thought that was a good thing, because that meant his worst weapon couldn’t do anything to me, but - but I didn’t realize - it’s - that’s  _ bad _ .  It’s horrible.”

 

“Why?” Wanda asks.

 

“He couldn’t - he couldn’t make me feel any worse about myself,” Billy says, edging on a whisper, “because I already hate myself so much.  And - and he couldn’t scare me with death because - because I already want to die.”  His throat starts to close and he swallows a few times against it.

 

Wanda doesn’t say anything, and Billy doesn’t look at her.

 

“I haven’t told anybody this,” he whispers.  “But - but when I was with the Young Avengers, trying to avoid Mother, I - I mean Loki gave me the idea - but I wanted it.  I really, really wanted it.”

 

“Billy - “ Wanda treads.

 

“I - I thought it would just be easier for everyone if I - “  He swallows again.  “I . . . tried to kill myself, Wanda.  Twice.”  He adds, voice wavering as his throat swells and he starts to cry.  “I - I took a gun from Noh-varr.  The first time - I almost - I fired it.  I still don’t know how, but Loki got to me in time to move my hand out of the way.  The second time - well everybody stopped me.  I don’t think they knew.  Maybe Loki.  Teddy doesn’t know anything and neither does Tommy, but I - I haven’t stopped thinking about it.  Sometimes I wish Loki hadn’t been there to push that laser out of the way.”

 

He dissolves after that, frozen in his body.  He squeezes his eyes shut tightly and his lungs fill with sobs, though none of them escape.  The pressure starts to build and he begins to shake violently.  He’s so occupied with trying to keep everything in that he forgets Wanda’s there.  She lays a hand on his knee, and he lets go.  As he cries Wanda moves closer and pulls him against her chest.

 

It feels like years as he sits there, sobbing uncontrollably, Wanda rubbing his back and hushing.  When the exhaustion finally takes the tears from him, all he can do is breathe.  They sit in silence for a long moment before Wanda speaks again.

 

“You need to go back to therapy, William.”

 

His instinct kicks in, and he tries half-heartedly to argue.  “I don’t know - “

 

“I’m not going to tell Rebecca,” Wanda offers, “if you go back.  You’re a danger to yourself and you need to heal.”

 

“Will - will you go with me?” Billy asks, and he’s not quite sure where that comes from, but it makes sense.  They go to the same office anyway.

 

“Of course.”

 

“I don’t want to go back to the therapist I had.”

 

“Why don’t I get you a referral from mine?”

 

Billy pulls away and looks up at her for the first time since his confession.  “That would actually be great.”

 

“I’ll do that,” she promises, and leans down to kiss his forehead.  “You should tell Teddy.  When you’re ready of course.  If you won’t tell anyone else, tell him.”

 

“I will,” Billy promises himself.  “When I’m ready.”

 

After a beat, Wanda pulls him back in for a hug.  “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, William, but you’re going to be okay.”

 

.

 

So he goes back.  He sees a different therapist and he tells her everything and they get along really well.  He doesn’t go on meds right away, but he’s starting to consider it.  It’s going to be a long process, but at least he has somewhere to go other than Wanda.

 

Months later, after one of his sessions, he drops by her apartment.  He lets himself in and takes his shoes off at the door, hangs his coat on the rack.

 

“Hey, Wanda!”

 

She smiles from her place at the stove, where she’s slaving over their dinner.  “Hi, William.  How was your appointment?”

 

“Really good,” he replies, taking a seat at her dining table.  

 

“Good, good.”

 

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something,” he blurts out, just going for it.

 

She looks up from the pot she’s hovering over.  “Yes, William?”

 

“Do you remember a while ago, when all the magic-users joined forces and I led the New Avengers from our team?”

 

“Yes,” Wanda replies.

 

“And I was insecure about my abilities but you encouraged me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He shifts his weight forward and covers his mouth with his fingers.

“I called you ‘Mom.’”

 

“I remember,” Wanda says with a huge smile that she tries to hide.

 

“Was that weird?” Billy asks earnestly.

 

Wanda sets the wooden spoon she’s holding down on the counter and turns to face him.  She folds her arms together.  “Was it?” she challenges.

 

Billy blushes.  “I don’t know - it just slipped out.  It wasn’t uncomfortable or anything - just - different.”

 

Wanda’s still smiling as he squirms in his seat.  “Well, William - I’m perfectly okay with you continuing to call me that - if you want.”

 

Billy laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I mean - “

 

The sound of dishes being clanged distracts him as he falters.

 

“It’s completely up to you,” Wanda continues.  “There is no pressure for anything.”  She sets a bowl of soup in front of him and he stares at it.  “Eat,” she encourages.  “You need it.”

 

He laughs.  “Whatever you say, Mom.”


End file.
